


Strangers on a Train

by lizardwriter



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types, Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu
Genre: F/F, girl code au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardwriter/pseuds/lizardwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Carmilla wanted was a quiet train ride, but, of course, the universe had other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers on a Train

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as the girl code AU. There is no murder in this strangers on a train. ;) I started this ages ago and finally finished it. I hope you like it.

You know the type as soon as you spot her walking down the aisle and you shift your bag a little further into the seat next to you, plant a scowl on your face, and look out the window. You watch her out of the corner of your eye, making sure she doesn’t decide to sit next to you. The train’s not that full. There are plenty of open seats. You sure as hell don’t need this overexcited, wide-eyed girl, who’s probably never been on a train before in her life, sitting next to you and trying to _talk_ to you for the next four hours. She hesitates when she sees you, her eyes trailing across your face, down across your chest, and on down to the seat beside you and your belongings that are half occupying it.

She’s cute, you think in passing as she bites her lip, then proceeds to a seat across the aisle and one row behind you. Cute, but you’re glad you won’t have the headache of having to force small talk or pretend to be interested in her likely dull life story.

A few more stragglers board the train and then you’re off, mercifully without a seat companion. You put in your headphones and dig your book out of your bag and settle in for the trip. You don’t mind trains, apart from the fact that it inevitably involves you being around other people (and other people have never been your favorite thing). You like the gentle swaying of the train car and the lull created by the white noise of the wheels on the tracks. You let your book suck you in so that the train is only present in the furthest edges of your consciousness, the words on the page coming to life as images in your head, dancing through your mind and transporting you somewhere else entirely.

You get lost in the story through the next four train stops, spreading out even more into the seat next to you as new people board. Another stop gone and you finish the first book and pull out another. This time it’s thoughts and ideas sparking in your brain as your eyes dart across the page. You settle back in easily, glad you’re not expected to make conversation with anyone.

You only briefly notice a tall, thin, scruffy guy giving you a lecherous look as he heads your way, and you shoot him a stony glare before returning your eyes to your book, breathing out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you’d been holding when he walks on past you.

You don’t give him another thought until you hear a strained voice from behind you another two stops on in the brief pause between the songs playing on your headphones. There’s an awkwardness and a hint of panic in it that makes you tune out of your book and into the conversation, pausing your music but leaving the headphones in.

“Oh. Interesting,” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice. Young, you think. It’s a little on the high-pitched side at the moment, but you think it would sound pleasant if not for the stress evident in it.

“I mean, I know it’s wrong. It’s wrong, right? She’s so much younger than me and my buddy’s daughter, but she _is_ legal. She’s about your age, probably,” a scratchy, male’s voice says. He’s a smoker, from the sounds of it. And a creep. Definitely a creep.

You grimace in disgust, already hating where this conversation is going.

“Yeah, probably.” You recognize the tone. She’s feeling trapped and a little scared. She’s doing nothing to encourage the conversation, but she’s too polite to not respond at all.

“I don’t know what someone your age would see in an old guy like me. I’m 43, you know. And she’s 19. I don’t encourage it, of course, but she just flirts with me all the time.”

_Sure she does, jackass. You probably think the poor girl next to you is flirting with you, too._

“Right,” the girl mutters, and you can practically see the forced, awkward smile and the panicked eyes on her face as she does so. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know what the girl looks like. You’ve seen that look on far too many women’s faces when they’ve been on the receiving end of unwanted male attention.

“How old are you?”

You gag. _Don’t tell him._

There’s a hesitation, and you think maybe she won’t, but then she replies, “19,” with trepidation.

This is not going to go anywhere good. You can just feel it.

“Same as her, then. I bet you don’t go hitting on your dad’s friends, though. You look like a good girl.”

You clench your fists and roll your eyes. This guy is the definition of sleazy and it’s making you queasy. You chance a glance around the seat and see that wide-eyed girl you’d noticed earlier pressing herself as close to the window of the train as humanly possible. The excitement that was in those eyes earlier has been replaced by a low-level terror. She’s completely trapped in the seat by the guy who had blatantly checked you out a few stops ago, who seems completely oblivious to her discomfort. Either that, or he’s getting some sort of sick pleasure out of it.

 _Don’t get involved,_ you tell yourself as you turn back around, but you can already feel your whole body tensing, ready to act.

“She’s a good girl, too. She likes to sit in my lap, you know …”

“That’s…um…”

You’re pulling out your headphones and turning back around before you can think about it and her eyes lock with yours in a silent plea for help. “Oh my god! Hey, there, cupcake! I thought I heard your voice! I didn’t know you were on this train today! What are the odds, huh? How have you been?” You force a horrible, excited voice that grates on your nerves out and smile at her. You watch her shoulders sag in relief.

“Oh, hey! It’s…It’s so good to see you!” There’s far too much truth in her words, not that the guy is any-the-wiser.

“This is your friend? How lucky am I to be in the presence of two such lovely girls,” he declares, and the smile that spreads across his face is anything but pleasant.

You blatantly ignore him, keeping your eyes trained on the girl. “It’s been so long! We have so much to catch up on! Why don’t you come sit with me, so we can chat?” you invite, the cheerfulness coming out strained in your voice.

The girl quickly grabs her belongings and moves to stand, but the guy makes no effort to move. He’s going to force her to squeeze uncomfortably past him, you think. She’d have to practically sit in his lap to do so. You remember his comment about his friend’s daughter doing that and you wonder if it was because of awkward situations like this one that his perverted mind has twisted. You clench your teeth, and you’re about to snap at him to move out of the way already, when the train pulls into the next station and he stands and mutters something about going out for a smoke.

The girl makes a break for the seat next to you as soon as he’s out of the way and you find yourself scrambling to move your bag so that she doesn’t sit on it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” the girl effuses, wringing her hands and settling in beside you.

You hadn’t really thought this through, clearly, because now you’re apparently stuck with the seatmate that you’d tried so hard to avoid having. The guy is currently off of the train. The girl could easily go find another compartment, but from the way she’s looking at you, you can tell that’s not about to happen.

You sigh and offer a half smile and a curt nod before turning your attention out the window. You catch sight of the guy, leaning against a post, sucking down a cigarette, eyes straying to anyone in a skirt. He makes your skin crawl.

“Seriously. You saved my life. That was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been! He just wouldn’t take the hint that I wasn’t interested in talking to him, and I didn’t get my earbuds in before he sat down, and then I didn’t want to be rude, and –“

“It’s fine, cupcake. You know, sometimes it’s okay to be rude. There’s this thing called self-preservation.”

“Yeah, I know, but…I mean we’re on a train with other people. He wouldn’t really have…Oh, God, would he have tried something?”

You shoot her a look that conveys in no uncertain terms just how naïve you believe her to be.

“Oh! Ugh! Ew! I…Ew!” she gags and runs a hand through long, honey-brown hair, her nose crinkling adorably.

_No, not adorable. Naïve and now someone you’re stuck with for likely the remainder of your trip. A pain, that’s what she is. A burden you didn’t ask for. Someone you’ll be expected to carry on polite conversation with. Ugh._

“Well, thanks again. I’m Laura, by the way,” she introduces herself, holding out a hand.

You stare at it for a moment, wondering if you don’t shake it if she’ll go away. Instead, you take it firmly, surprised at her warmth and the enticing smoothness of her skin against yours. You pull back a little quicker than you’d intended, making her eyebrows rise in curiosity, but she doesn’t comment on it.

“Carmilla,” you reply, when it becomes clear that she’s waiting on a response.

Amber-brown eyes dance across your face as the corners wrinkle in a smile that reaches her eyes. “Nice to meet you, Carmilla.”

You hold her gaze for a moment longer than you should. It’s not a great way to show your lack of interest. (It’s not your fault she’s attractive, though. You might be tempted to check her out more if it weren’t for the situation you just saved her from. Ugh, why did you feel compelled to go and play the hero? You’re nobody’s hero.)

“Yeah,” you grunt noncommittally, turning your attention back out the window.

“So, where are you headed?” she asks, her voice annoyingly chipper.

“Home,” you mutter, not sure as you say it that that’s exactly the right word for it. The place lacks the cozy warmth that you think should be associated with a “home”. It’s more the house you had no choice but to grow up in. There’s no need to tell this girl that, though.

“Oh, cool! I’m visiting my aunt for the holidays. My dad’s flying in and meeting me there. Her place is closer to where I’m going to college and we haven’t seen her in a few years, so it should be fun.”

“Great,” you murmur, sarcasm evident in your smile, you’re sure of it, but Laura seems to miss it entirely, nodding along enthusiastically and continuing to natter on.

“Yeah. I’m really excited. My younger cousins are going to be so grown up now! I can’t believe Joey started high school this year!”

You nod absently.

“Although it might be a little awkward. I haven’t seen them since I came out, and I don’t know if they know, and I don’t think any of them will have a problem with it, but…well, you never really know, do you?”

You raise an eyebrow and look back at her. Maybe she’s more interesting than you initially gave her credit for.

She catches your look and a pretty blush flushes her cheeks. “Sorry, I’m babbling. I, just, I’m still so relieved you rescued me from that guy, and you’re so nice, and the holidays are coming up and I love the holidays, and I’m just excited, and –“

“Breathe, cupcake,” you cut her off.

She blushes deeper, and you have to admit that it’s pretty adorable. Not that “adorable” is really a thing that you go for, obviously.

“Sorry. God, you must think I’m crazy, just blabbing away, coming out to attractive strangers on the train, I swear I’m not usually –“

“You think I’m attractive?” You smirk as her face turns even redder. “Thanks, cutie,” you add with a wink, and you’re rewarded with an even darker shade of red.

“I mean, you’re…I…What are you reading?”

You frown at the sudden non sequitur. “Hmm?”

“Before. You were reading a book before. Anything good?”

You hold up your book and she frowns at the cover.

“ _Black Skin, White Masks_ ,” she read. “That looks…heavy.”

You shrug. “It’s pretty interesting. Frantz Fanon’s writing was revolutionary. It predates the civil rights movement in the U.S. His concept that fear existed alongside desire for the ‘other’ helped explain the concept of racism. His expansion on Freud’s ideas on psychopathology contributed greatly to understanding the struggle of the colonized and he recognized that desire for respect for human dignity didn’t change the reality of the world.”

You see her nod along, but you can tell from the slightly glazed look in her eyes that she’s not exactly following. You shrug again. “It’s worth a read if you’re interested in things like decolonization and human liberation.”

She smiles. “Cool.”

You resist the urge to sigh as you put the book back in your lap. You contemplate going back to reading it briefly, but then the sleazeball smoker is climbing back on the train, and you know you need to make it believable that you and Laura are in fact old friends catching up so that he leaves her alone.

He’s already leering at the two of you as soon as he catches sight of you, so you turn back to Laura with what you hope is a genuine smile and say, “So how’s your dad doing these days?”

She looks momentarily confused, but then the guy brushes past her unnecessarily, and you don’t miss the shiver that runs through her as she squeezes in tighter to you. “Oh, you know my dad. Overprotective as always. Sent me off to school with a whole supply of bear spray for all those wild bear attacks that never happen on college campuses!”

You grin and you eye her bag, an unspoken question in your raised eyebrow. She nods ever-so-slightly, and you think maybe you didn’t have to rescue her after all. “Hey, I bet it works on pervs, too,” you say and she laughs, but you both know you’re not joking.

You hear her breathe out in relief when the guy settles back in his seat without trying to interact with either of you.

“What about your mom?” you ask to keep up the ruse, and you watch her face freeze. Her body stiffens beside you, and the smile is still on her face, but it’s lifeless and nowhere close to reflected in her eyes.

 _Shit._ You should have known when she didn’t mention a mom involved in the holiday plans, but you hadn’t really been listening.

“Good,” she manages after too long of a pause, and you scramble to change the subject.

“My stepmom’s still a raging bitch, so, you know, there’s that,” you say, and a little bit of life comes back to her face, but the chuckle that emanates from her chest is forced.

“And my brother is still a suck-up and a mama’s boy. I wonder how he’ll survive college away from her next year.”

The laugh that Laura manages then is a little more real, and you feel her body start to relax again. You reach out and give her arm a quick squeeze of apology, before you really think about it, and then it’s your turn to freeze. Her cheeks flush as she looks down at your hand, and her skin is warm and soft beneath your fingers.

You swallow hard and pull your hand away, forcing another smile back onto your face. You tell yourself that your heart isn’t beating a little faster in your chest. “So, college! How’s that going? Tell me all about it!” you invite, even though you really couldn’t care less.

Laura doesn’t seem to pick up on that, though, or she’s just desperate to keep talking to you so she doesn’t have to talk to the guy again, so you smile and nod as she rambles on, attempting to make “oohs” and “ahs” in all the appropriate places. You can see the guy glancing at the two of you from time to time.

You’re just deciding that Laura clearly thinks too highly of her English Lit TA, when the train comes to a stop, and you’re sure you’re not due into the next station yet. You glance out the window, aware of Laura peering over your shoulder, and there’s no station. There’s no anything, as far as you can tell. Some grass, some mountains in the distance, and that’s it.

You hear a murmur of confusion go through the train car, and you sit back with a frown on your face. It’s a few long minutes before a tinny voice rings through the speakers, informing you that there’s a problem on the tracks up ahead and they’ll let you know when the line is clear and you can get underway again.

 _Great. Just great._ Just what you need is for this trip to become longer.

You notice Laura’s shoulders sag slightly at the announcement. Before you can ask why, the guy is leaning out of his seat, legs blocking most of the aisle, face leering far too close to Laura for comfort. His smile is more predatory than kind, though you’re sure he’s shooting for the latter.

“Guess we’re all stuck here together for a while.”

Laura turns to face him, practically jumping. Her back presses into your side and, without thinking, you wrap a protective arm around her stomach.

He stands and moves beside you, leaning down and further into your space. “Would you ladies like anything from the food car? My treat?”

 _Yeah, because you’ll probably lace it with something to knock us out._ “No, thanks,” you reply coldly.

“What about you?” he asks, eyes staring blatantly at Laura’s chest as he looks down at her.

“No,” she replies with a firm shake of her head. Maybe she’s not as naïve as she’d initially seemed.

The man shrugs and presses still further into Laura’s space as another passenger squeezes past him. His crotch is at head level, and you’re tempted to just throw a quick punch, but he’s probably the type of asshole who would make a big fuss about pressing charges for an “unprovoked” attack, so you don’t.

After what seems like far too long of a minute, he moves away. Neither you nor Laura move until he’s left the car.

“What a creep,” you mutter when the door between cars shuts firmly behind him.

“Seriously,” she agrees.

Your eyes are still trained on the door he’d vanished through, but you feel Laura’s body relaxing slightly. Not enough, though, given that he’s gone.

When Laura clears her throat, you look at her, only to realize two things: 1) you’re incredibly close to her (so close, in fact, that you’re breathing in the fresh, floral scent of her shampoo because your nose is practically buried in her hair) and 2) she’s looking down at where your hand lays flat against her stomach.

“Shit,” you mumble, pulling away and pressing your back against the wall of the train. Laura moves out of your space, her cheeks once again flushed an attractive shade of pink, and her hair falls into her face as she glances shyly back at you.

Your heart’s racing and your palms feel a bit clammy, and this all seems very unlike you. It’s hardly like you’ve never encountered a pretty girl before. Usually they’re not half as annoying, either (although that may have something to do with your preference for their mouths being occupied doing something far more pleasurable than just talking).

You cringe at your own thought, considering the possibility that it makes you sound as creepy as the guy you’d so very much like to avoid for the remainder of this trip.

“Hey, why don’t we try to find seats in another car for the rest of the trip? I don’t know about you, but I’m not really all that eager to get any more attention from the scruffy pervert.”

She nods eagerly and you gather your stuff, shuffling to the back door of the car behind Laura. She glances around the new car once you’re in it, but you shake your head, lean in close to her and say, “Let’s go one more back, just in case he decides to look for us. Wouldn’t want him to just be able to see us through the window.”

“Good thinking,” she murmurs, a small shiver running through her, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s because of the mention of the creep or from your proximity.

You roll your eyes when you realize you hope it’s the latter. The last thing you need is to fall for some silly, little, overeager, overly talkative, vaguely annoying girl you met on the train and will likely never see again.

Of course the new train car is fuller than the one you left, but there are still enough seats free that she wouldn’t necessarily need to sit next to you. That would probably be a good idea. You see two empty seats and you slide into one while Laura’s already walking on ahead, but she looks back and sees you’ve found a seat and retraces her steps to join you. Of course she does. You contemplate saying something about how you’d been hoping to weather the rest of this stupid trip in solitude, but she gives you a grin that has the words dying on your tongue.

She breathes out a sigh and relaxes into the seat beside you. “Thank God we don’t have to deal with that guy anymore! This was a great idea.”

You nod your agreement, and contemplate how rude it would be to take your book back out now, when she says, “So tell me more about your insufferable mother and suck-up of a brother.”

\--

Of course she’s one of those people who is genuinely interested in everything. One of those who asks probing questions and gives responses that show she’s actually listening to everything you’re saying. How on earth did you ever manage to attract one of those?

She’s cute when she blushes though (and she blushes oh-so-easily, which you may or may not be having just a _little_ bit of fun with).

She’s a bit of a klutz, too, which is somehow annoyingly endearing.

“Always fall over your own feet around pretty girls?” you tease when she stumbles as the train (finally underway again after over an hour and a half) jerks suddenly when she’s coming back from the bathroom, sending her flying unexpectedly into your arms.

Her face is mere inches from yours and it flushes a bright red. You tell yourself that seeing if it can get any redder is the only reason that it takes you a few more seconds than absolutely necessary to let her go.

\--

“This is my stop.”

“Mine, too,” you reply, surprised to find that you’re not really all that eager to part ways anymore. You’d have thought that five hours with her would have driven you absolutely insane.  

“Oh, cool,” she says, offering you a huge grin. You search it for any signs of insincerity, but find none.

You gather your belongings quickly and follow her to the door, stepping down from the train with a heavy thump of your boots on the platform.

She stops and turns to face you once you’ve cleared the door so that others can disembark, and she offers a shy smile. “Which way are you headed?”

You gesture vaguely over your shoulder. You caught sight of your brother’s car in the parking lot and you’re sure he’s waiting impatiently inside, but you don’t really care. “You?”

She points in the other direction. “Other way, of course,” she supplies. There’s a minivan waiting, parked on the street. Her aunt, you guess.

You nod. “Well, thanks for the company.” You want to smack yourself in the face because that is NOT something you normally thank people for, and it comes out sounding a little forced.

If she notices, she doesn’t say. Instead, she beams at you and replies with, “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

You wave the idea away. “It was…fun.” You’re surprised to find that it’s not a complete lie.

Her smile grows even wider, and her cheeks flush a faint pink.

“Well, maybe I’ll see you on the train back to school,” she suggests.

You highly doubt it, but you nod anyway. “Yeah. Maybe. Well, I should—“ You gesture to the parking lot and the waiting car.

“Yeah. My aunt’s waiting for me.”

You wave an awkward goodbye and turn your back before things can get any more uncomfortable. You just need to get away and get her out of your head. The rest of your break will be hell, but then you can escape Maman’s claws again and go back to the slight freedom that college affords you. You want to kick yourself for thinking that it’d be nice if somehow you were able to see Laura again during your break.

“Hey, Carmilla?” you hear as you feel a tap on your shoulder and you turn around quickly to find Laura nervously biting her lip.

“Yes?” you ask after an awkward pause, raising your eyebrow expectantly.

“I just…Thank you. For on the train. For helping me with that creep. I really don’t want to think of what might have happened if you hadn’t helped, and I’m not helpless, but I WAS uncomfortable, and I know you didn’t do it for me. I mean, why would you do it for me, some nerdy girl you’ve never even met before? Obviously it wasn’t for me. It was, you know, you were following the girl code, and stuff, which only makes me like you more because how awesome that you’re the kind of girl who stands up for other girls, and oh God, I just said that out loud! Okay, if at all possible, could you just forget that bit because, I mean, I know we just talked for hours, but really we still barely know each other and I probably seem a little bit crazy, and all I really wanted to say was thank you, but —”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as she rambles on and on, her face growing redder and redder. It’s the thought that she might not ever stop talking (and maybe the thought that she really is absolutely adorable when she’s blushing and awkwardly rambling) that makes you reach out to her, your fingers threading through her hair as you bring her in close to you. You pause, though, because you DON’T want to be that guy from the train, and she gives her lower lip a nervous nibble before surging forward and pressing her lips against yours in an act of boldness that surprises you.

You kiss her back, struck by how soft her lips are, and how warm her hands are as they fall to your hips, holding you close. You deepen the kiss for a moment before she pulls away, blushing the brightest shade of red you’ve seen on her yet.

“People are probably watching,” she mumbles, and when you glance around you see that she’s not wrong.

“So?” you say, snagging another quick kiss that you’re pleased to find her smiling into.

“Does this mean I can get your number?” she asks. Bold again. You really might have underestimated her.

You pull a pen out of your bag and hold out your hand. She gives you her hand and it’s warm and soft in yours. You hold it for a second before writing your number on her skin, the dark blue ink a stark contrast to her pale skin.

“Guess, I’ll see you around,” you say, walking backwards and shooting her a grin.

She grins back. “Definitely.”


End file.
